13. Celeste
Thursday Morning
For a few seconds after I opened my eyes, I didn’t know where I was.
The room was too still. No little feet in the hallway. No cabinet door slamming. No Skye whispering loud enough to wake the whole house. No Kayden clearing his throat outside my door like a teenage bodyguard pretending to be casual.
Just the hum of air conditioning and dawn pressing pale blue against the curtains.
Then I breathed in, and the room gave him back to me.
Sandalwood lingered on the pillowcase beneath my cheek, clean and warm enough to make my fingers curl into the sheet.
Rosemary lingered too, faint from the kitchen. My body knew before my mind did. A man had put me in his bed and slept across the room so I wouldn’t wake up afraid.
Lord, help me.
Josiah.
Beside it sat a glass of water and a folded note.
Beautiful,
You fell asleep hard. I moved you so your neck wouldn’t punish you in the morning. You called me bossy twice, so I’m counting that as consent with commentary.
I’m on the chaise.
You’re safe.
J.
I read the note again, slower this time. He’d moved me to his bed, covered me, taken off my sandals, plugged in my phone, left me water, and put himself somewhere else.
You’re safe.
The room blurred.
I blinked hard and looked across the bedroom.
Josiah slept on the chaise near the window, one arm behind his head, his braids loose over one shoulder. The morning light found his face, peaceful enough to make me stare.
I should’ve looked away.
I didn’t.
My God, this man was beautiful, and somehow, that had become the least remarkable thing about him.
I pressed my lips together, but the truth slipped out anyway.
“My God, this man is so sexy.”
His eyes opened.
Josiah didn’t move at first. He just looked at me through the dim morning light, sleep still holding the edges of his face, his gaze slow and direct enough to make heat crawl up my neck.
“So are you, love.”
I slapped both hands over my face. “Oh my God.”
His laugh came rough with sleep. “You started it.”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I was.”
“Then why did you hear me?”
“My spirit agreed and woke me up.”
“Josiah.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Please go back to sleep and forget I said that.”
“No.”
“No?”
He shifted on the chaise, the blanket sliding lower on his waist. I looked at the ceiling because the Lord and I had enough history for me not to pretend I was above temptation.
Josiah’s mouth tugged at one corner. “I’ve been called worse than sexy before breakfast. I’m keeping it.”
I dropped my hands and glared at him. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I am.”
I sat up slowly, pulling the comforter with me like it could hide the fact that my face was burning. “How long have you been awake?”
“Since you started testifying.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No.” I looked at him, then looked away because he was still watching me like I’d been placed in his room to test my whole testimony. “I really don’t.” I touched the note on the nightstand. “You moved me.”
“I did.”
“You carried me?”
“Yes, baby.”
The name crossed the room slower than his voice did.
Baby.
One word, soft and sure, and my whole face went hot. I looked down at the comforter because there was no dignified way to respond to a man calling me that before sunrise.
His smile stayed private, like he’d seen the blush and decided to keep it safe instead of teasing it to death.
“You carried me,” I repeated, mostly because my brain had gone useless.
His eyes moved over my face, then softened. “Yes. You were asleep, and your neck was bent like you were trying to wake up with a lawsuit.”
I laughed despite myself. “And you slept over there?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I did.” He sat up, forearms resting on his thighs, hair falling forward as he looked at me.
“You fell asleep on me, Celeste. Not with me. There’s a difference.
” Josiah rested his elbows on his knees.
“I didn’t want you waking up with your neck hurting.
And I didn’t want you waking up wondering whether I took more than you gave. ”
My fingers tightened around the comforter.
“I asked if I could move you. You were half-asleep, but you answered me.”
“What did I say?”
He smiled. “You said, ‘Fine, but don’t be bossy about it.’”
I closed my eyes. “That sounds like me.”
“Then I asked again after I got you to the bed, just to make sure you knew where you were.”
“And?”
“You said, ‘Josiah, I know your voice.’”
My chest went still. I didn’t remember saying it, but some part of me did.
I looked down at the note because looking at him felt like standing too close to a flame I wanted to trust. “I heard you.”
His expression changed. “Heard me?”
“Last night. On the couch.” I swallowed. “When you thought I was asleep.”
His face went serious.
I looked back at him. “I heard you talking over me.”
He didn’t speak.
I pushed my locs back over my shoulder and tried to steady the little tremor in my voice. “I wasn’t fully asleep. I was in that place where your body is gone, but your spirit is still listening. I heard you say God didn’t bring me to your door for you to mishandle me.”
His throat moved.
“I heard you say you’d learn my children, not tolerate them.”
The words almost broke on the way out.
Josiah lowered his head for a second, then looked at me again. “I didn’t mean to make you feel watched.”
“You didn’t.”
“I didn’t mean to speak over you without asking.”
My voice softened. “You covered me. There’s a difference.”
His eyes searched mine.
I held the comforter against my chest. “Nobody has covered me like that in a long time. Jamal covered me,” I whispered.
“In his way. He wasn’t perfect, but he covered me.
Covered us. After he died, everybody loved me, helped me, checked on me, brought food, watched the kids, sat in the house.
But that’s different from being covered by a man who sees you as his assignment and not his obligation. ”
Josiah stood from the chaise slowly.
He stood in the blue morning light, giving me room to decide.
I looked at him and felt something in me stop pretending.
“I’m scared,” I said.
“I know.”
“I’m scared because I’m not confused.” His eyes held mine. I breathed out. “I know it’s fast. I know grief makes time strange, and I know desire can make people lie to themselves. But I’m not lying to myself right now.”
His voice dropped. “What do you feel?”
I looked down at my hands. “Like God put you somewhere I can’t ignore. Like my heart is waking up, and I’m scared to trust it.” Josiah’s mouth twitched, but his eyes stayed serious. “I’m falling for you,” I said.
Josiah didn’t rush toward me. He didn’t grin like he’d won something. He closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again, there was enough feeling in his face to make my own eyes burn.
“I’m already there,” he said.
My breath caught.
He took one step closer and stopped. “I wasn’t trying to say it before you were ready to hear it.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t want you not to say it either.”
His smile came, faint and careful. “That sounds like you.”
“It is me. Complicated and dramatic.”
“You’re beautiful and honest.”
I looked away before I started crying again. “You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Making me feel like I can be all over the place and still be wanted.”
“Because you can, love.”
I pressed my lips together.
He came around to the side of the bed and knelt beside it, still not touching me. His face was close now, close enough for me to see the sleep still clinging to his eyes and the restraint holding his body still.
“Celeste.”
“Yes?”
“I need you to hear me clearly. You don’t owe me anything because you slept here. You don’t owe me anything because I cooked. You don’t owe me anything because I spoke over you. You don’t owe me because I want you, and God knows I want you.”
He kept his eyes on mine. “If all you want is to talk, we’ll talk. If you want me to take you home, I’ll take you home. If you want breakfast, I’ll cook. If you want to go back to sleep, I’ll go make coffee and let you rest.” I swallowed. “And if you want me closer, you have to say that too.”
My fingers curled into the comforter. He waited. That was what undid me. He refused to shape my silence into permission and left the door in my hands.
“I want you closer,” I said.
He exhaled slowly.
“How close?”
My face went hot.
“Josiah.”
His voice softened without losing its weight. “No, love. I’m not guessing with you.”
My heart beat so hard I felt it in my throat.
I let the comforter fall from my hands. “I want you to kiss me.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth for half a second, then returned to my eyes. “That’s all?”
“No.”
His hand flexed against his thigh.
“What else?”
“I want you to touch me.”
His jaw tightened.
“What else?”
The room felt too warm. My skin felt too awake. Every fear I’d brought with me stood at the edge of the bed, but wanting him stood closer.
“I want to be with you,” I whispered.
He went still. Careful.
“Celeste.” He lifted one hand slowly and brushed his knuckles along my cheek.
“Then we’re going to honor both.” My chest moved with a shaky breath.
“Your nerves can stay. They don’t have to drive.
” His thumb moved along my cheek. “I don’t want to be a storm passing through your life, Celeste.
I want to be rain your roots can trust.” He leaned closer, and his breath touched my mouth before his lips did.
“I need you here with me. Not proving anything. Not outrunning anything. Here.”
“I’m here.”
“Then come here, baby.”
I met him halfway.
The kiss started soft, but there was nothing uncertain beneath it.
His mouth brushed mine once, twice, then stayed like he’d been waiting all night to take his time.
I slid my hands into his braids and pulled him closer, and a rough sound moved through his chest before he caught my bottom lip between his.
Not hard. Not careless. Just enough to make my breath leave me in pieces.